


Wild Things

by quodpersortem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But don't get mad at Derek, Derek Loves You Stiles Stilinski, Don't judge me because of the het, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Hairy boys are hairy, Het for the purpose of gay, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Just pretend you are the girl, Kissing, M/M, Not-so-safe sex, Scenting, Smut, Ugh, Very explicit sex, blowjob, don't hate me, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/quodpersortem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time when Derek totally ruins Stiles’ <i>first time</i> by jumping into his room. Unannounced. So of course Stiles seeks revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is smut because of the smut.
> 
> So yeah, there is an OFC in this and there’s a rather explicit Stiles/OFC scene at the start and if you don’t like that I’ll give you two suggestions: 1) replace the girl’s name with your own name, 2) skip to the Sterek sexy bits. Which really makes up the better part of the fic anyway. 
> 
> Either way, NC-17 because of the because. If you haven’t had your first time yet, I wish with my entire heart that it will be as amazing as you imagine it to be. If you have and were disappointed (or hate it or whatever) ugh idk I suppose we can always write fics about the way we wished it’d happened. With guys in our place.

Stiles thinks _yes_ when he finally gets to take Sam home with him. She is smiling at him, her blond hair reaching just past her jawline in a cut he probably wouldn’t like on most other girls, but which suits her perfectly. Her fingers are entwined with his and he kisses her the moment they step into his room.

“I’m just going to lock my door, okay?” he says and tries to avoid the thought that he probably should lock his windows too just in case anyone—Scott or Derek—might decide to visit him. 

“Sure, babe,” she says as she pulls off her coat and then in one fluid motion—heck—her _shirt_ too. 

Stiles remembers to close his mouth just in time before she turns around and curls her finger to indicate he should move closer to her.

He has no problems with that, of course.

He puts his hands on the bare skin of her waist and _oh_ , that’s wonderful, it’s soft, it’s—

And then she’s dragging him down onto the bed. For once in his life, Stiles is glad he isn’t the most muscular guy around because it means that he doesn’t have to worry about suffocating her when he lands on top of her.

“You’re wonderful,” he mutters into her skin and she sighs, then puts a slight pressure on Stiles’ head so he’ll move lower with his mouth and yep, Stiles gets the hind and is _definitely_ okay with that. 

He doesn’t know how he does it, but somehow he has the mind to unfasten her jeans before he actually gets there. And shove them down. And dear God, _hips_. When he slides his hands over the naked skin, kissing right below Sam’s belly button at the same time, she moans and he feels a shiver run down his spine.

Stiles is so, _so_ hard for her. And he says so.

Except it comes out as, “mhsjuu”. Sam giggles and lifts up her hips so he can pull down her panties (and he tries not to look at the V of dark blonde hair that has just appeared, simply for the sake that he still has to get her pants off her ankles—which he proceeds to do more flawless than he tends to get his own clothes off and a hell of a lot faster as well).

“You okay with this?” she asks him then, still with a smile on her face as she spreads her lips and then Stiles _is_ staring at her, head to toe, because she took off her bra while he was busy taking off her trousers. 

Belatedly, he realizes he’ll have to answer. “You bet I am,” he tells her, and then leans back in to her, his head between her legs.

He digs his fingers into her thighs and she’s writhing underneath him as he tentatively licks at her, tasting girl, tasting something that he’d never expected and at the same time it’s no surprise at all. Stiles is absolutely _loving_ the taste of it. So he digs in deeper.

What he loves more, however, is the way she writhes underneath him, the way she moans when he does something right and how she urges him on, “Yes, perfect, God, that’s _it_ , Stiles, Stiles, _Stiles!_ ”.

He has three fingers buried inside her, then, stretching inside the slick, hot wetness inside her, and it is simultaneously turning him on and distracting him from his own needs. Stiles thinks that he can go on forever, or at least until she comes, when her hand finds his head and seems to push him away. When he keeps on going, because she’s still making all these wonderful sounds, she sits up and pulls herself away from him.

“Stiles,” she pants and her face is flushed—no, her cheeks are flushed all the way down to her small breasts and that is really. Fucking. Sexy—“Please-” she says then she stares right at him and it’s almost a demand when she says “undress.” 

Even while Stiles is scrambling out of his clothes, hastily and not caring that his foot got stuck (twice) because she doesn’t seem to care, Sam asks him, “Do you have condoms here?”

Stiles nods and sits down on the edge of the bed, opening his bedside table to take out the three-pack of condoms he bought ages ago. He’s always made sure to keep check of the due date, and they’re still well within range and then it hits him again that it’s going to happen, now, today, _very-fucking-soon_.

He fumbles with the foil as Sam looks on over his shoulder, her breasts pressing against his back and yeah, that’s distracting.

It’s actually difficult to see how he has to roll down the condom, whether the rim is facing upwards or downwards, but after a while he thinks he gets it, then tries to get it on—and fails miserably. Stiles’ hands are trembling and he feels horribly ashamed, and Sam is smothering a giggle into his chest.

“Here,” she says, still laughing. “Let me do it.” She’s sitting behind him and he can feel her wetness against his back oh dear _lord_ and then her hands are on his dick and he bucks up so she starts to laugh harder but then for some reason Stiles is laughing as well because—really, it _is_ quite funny.

“It can’t be all flawless the first time, can it?” he smiles at her and nuzzles her neck. 

She kisses him and says, “Nope. That’s the charm of it.”

Then she’s laying back, her legs spread and he’s hovering above her and she guides him into that tight warmth. The way he slips in and out of her ridiculously _easily_ is something he’s sure he’ll _never_ be able to describe. Not with words other than _perfect_ and more and _beautiful_.

And Sam is encouraging him too, not only by saying the same kinds of words to him, or his name, but also by holding on to him like she _never_ wants him to go away from where he’s now (and Stiles thinks he’s entirely okay with that).

In fact, everything is _so_ perfect that he doesn’t even notice that _someone_ has opened the window and is now _standing in his room_ until Sam taps on his shoulder.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Stiles immediately asks, “Because you should totally tell me if-“ but then he notices she’s not pointing at him but at something over his shoulder.

He doesn’t even have to look back to know it’s Derek, but he does so just to be entirely sure anyway. At the same time he pulls the sheets over his’ and Sam’s naked bodies, ridiculously ashamed and his face probably redder than it has ever been.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he then says, pushing Sam away from him as he scrambles to sit up in his bed, even though there is _no_ way Derek doesn’t realize what on earth is going on. Even if he didn’t _see_ anything, he must be able to _smell_ it. “What on earth are you doing here!” he then yells.

“We need to talk,” Derek says, and he’s looking the same way he always does: like he doesn’t care.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Stiles is aware of he is still shouting but he _can’t help it_. Derek has ruined enough for him already, he doesn’t have to ruin Stiles’ first time with a girl.

“Or do you want to join?” Sam then says, sultry but still half-hiding behind Stiles and he _really_ doesn’t want Derek to do that.

“No, he can’t join,” he tells her, and then she’s shrugging and it’s _almost_ like she’s disappointed by Stiles. He tactfully ignores that, though, and continues to focus his anger at Derek.

“We can talk later, you don’t have to interrupt my _privacy_. I’m pretty sure I could have you sued for breaking into my room and voyeurism and probably a hell of a lot of other things as well.” 

Derek still manages to look unfazed and shrugs before saying, “Just drop by my place today,” and then he’s gone, right back out of the window.

“How did he do that?” Sam, still besides him, asks.

“I’m not in the mood for this,” Stiles groans as he buries his face in his hands and yes, he’s given Sam a totally valid answer because his life sucks and he has all reasons to feel angry and depressed—at least for a little while, until he calls Scott who will tell him everything will be okay.

“Uh, okay,” Sam says as she gets out of bed and starts to put on her clothes.

Stiles has half a mind to tell her to stop dressing, to say that she should come back to bed, but a breeze is coming in through the window and it clears his mind from the arousal that was surging through his body only minutes ago, and he isn’t sure if he can get back into the mood today.

No, that’s a lie. He can, just not right now.

“Sam,” he says, pleading, stretching out an arm to her.

“I’m going to go home,” she says, sounding a little moody now. “And tell your friends they can’t just _fly_ into your room, even if they are the hottest person in Beacon Hills.”

And Stiles wants to say, “I try to make that clear,” and “He won’t listen,” and finally “I am so sorry, I am sorry, please come back to bed,” but Sam is already standing in the doorway and tells him, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

Just like that, she’s gone, and Stiles wonders if Derek has not only ruined his first time with another person but also his first ever relationship. It’s not the first time he feels angry at Derek, but it _is_ the first time he feels angry enough to actually hurt him.

He needs to know that it is _not_ okay to ruin Stiles’ life.

-

He arrives at Derek’s house twenty minutes later, and he hasn’t even cleaned himself up because Derek _deserves_ to know that Stiles, actually, has had sex. Stiles doesn’t even care if any of the other werewolves are there and/or if they will smell it on him. 

Stiles makes sure to slam the car door with a loud _bang_ , sure that that will draw Derek’s attention. It’s only then that he realizes he’s doing exactly what Derek wanted him to do in the first place—to meet with him for a talk later—but _fuck it_. There is no turning back now anyway.

He doesn’t have to knock on the door before Derek opens it.

“What is it?” he barks at Stiles, and Stiles does _not_ deserve this treatment after what Derek did. He tells him so.

“You are such a fucking egoistical bastard,” he shouts at Derek, “You _ruined_ my barely existent sex life!” And then, just because he suddenly thinks it, “You owe me an orgasm!”

Derek grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him into the house before Stiles can voice any protests. He is growling too, and Stiles would probably think he was scary with his eyes flashing red but he can’t because he is too _angry_ still.

“You are an idiot,” Derek tells him, then and _what_ is he talking about, Stiles thinks.

“I was having safe sex, you know, with the emphasis on _was_ because then you decided to jump in through my window without even knocking or tapping on it or whatever is custom to do when you enter houses through windows.” Stiles glares at Derek and he knows he’s probably not doing a very job at intimidating him, as Derek is no doubt used to bright blue, yellow and red glares. 

And that’s when Derek does a very _strange_ thing. Strange meaning awkward and unexpected and very, very _creepy_.

As in, he grabs Stiles’ wrist and puts his fingers into his mouth. (Stiles tries not to think of earlier today, when he was still with Sam, or how Derek’s mouth is equally soft or possibly softer—definitely wetter and-). Derek starts to suck on his fingers, his tongue swirling around them and between them.

This definitely doesn’t arouse him. Nope. No way. Stiles isn’t interested in men. Or wolves.

Derek looks up and smirks at him even though he still has Stiles’ fingers in his mouth, and it makes Stiles think that Derek he knows all of Stiles’ dirty little secrets (and it’s bad enough that werewolves have super-smelling powers but now Stiles is definitely wondering if their sense of taste is kind of amazing as well).

“Why are you doing this?” he finally manages though his voice is trembling, and Derek pulls his mouth off Stiles’ fingers with a pop, cheeks hollowed. _God._

“Oh,” Derek shrugs and then sniffs at Stiles’ neck before he starts to lick at it and this time Stiles does yelp and tries to get away from Derek. Instead, Derek just holds his wrist a little tighter and fists his other hand in Stiles’ shirt.

Then Derek’s mouth covers Stiles’ and it feels like he wants to map Stiles’ mouth except that would be creepy and disgusting and—when Stiles relaxes into the kiss he realizes that Derek is actually pretty good at this, and that he tastes wonderful, reminding Stiles of caramel and bread and wood. Derek’s hands come up to cup Stiles’ face and Stiles, _fuck it_ , after which he spreads his legs a little and presses a thigh against Derek’s crotch.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to Stiles that Derek is sporting a massive erection, but it kind of _is_. He shudders when Derek moans into his mouth, strong fingers tightening on Stiles’ skin.

Then his mouth is gone and he’s pulling at Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles hopes he can claim to Scott that he didn’t want to undress in front of Derek. Probably not, though.

When it’s on the floor gathering dust, Derek slowly moves down across Stiles’ chest and it reminds Stiles of something. Derek reaching his bellybutton before Stiles recognizes what it is.

This is where Sam kissed him. 

From there on, realization is easy. His fingers, his neck, his _mouth_. Stiles has a pretty good idea of where Derek will be heading next. 

He just—He wants to ask Derek first and does so while he’s pushing him away from his body (even though Derek’s tongue on his stomach felt really, _ridiculously_ good and he can almost forgive Derek for interrupting his first time. _Almost_ ).

“Are you jealous?”

Derek raises his eyebrows and then shrugs.

Stiles sighs. “Seriously. Derek.”

Derek shrugs and looks up innocently (as far as a former murder suspect can look innocent, Stiles thinks). “I still owe you an orgasm, don’t I?” 

Stiles doesn’t say anything to that because he is too busy blushing and trembling at the idea of Derek giving him head.

Then Derek unbuttons his jeans and tugs at them and just like that Stiles can feel the cool air brush against his thighs and he shivers again.

Derek’s pushing fingers into the back of Stiles’ thigh, blunt and forceful and they will leave five perfect bruises Stiles already knows he’ll be staring at for an indeterminable amount of time when he gets back home. Then Derek’s nose is buried in his pubic hair and he starts to lap his tongue at the tender skin and Stiles’ knees start to tremble.

“Oh,” he says, pushing a hand into Derek’s hair—mostly to steady himself. His other hand is braced against the wall, his knuckles white from the pressure he puts on his arms. “Oh, oh, _oh_ ” he chants as Derek pushes his tongue against Stiles’ pubes, flattening them so they are matted against his skin. His cheek brushes Stiles’ cock and Stiles moans and closes his eyes. 

Derek’s mouth is now working on the base of his cock, and Stiles wonders what it tastes like to Derek. If it’s Sam, or if it’s Stiles. If he can smell the rubber.

Then Derek curls a hand around the base of his cock and Stiles makes the mistake of actually looking down when he takes the rest of it into his mouth. Stiles starts to say, “hoooly fucking-“ while he closes his eyes except then Derek starts to suck and his voice trails off to a groan.

Derek _is_ actually _sucking_ off Stiles cock, rather than just moving his mouth up and down the shaft, and his hand is moving as well and Stiles vaguely registers how Derek pushes his free hand against Stiles’ hip, keeping him upright.

Stiles bucks into Derek’s mouth uncontrollably, moaning and babbling and trying not to say Derek’s name until he accidentally _does_ and then _Derek_ moans and it sends a buzz of electric arousal through Stiles’ body, making his entire body tingle.

“Okay,” he mumbles when he can feel his muscles tighten, pleasure reaching new and exhilarating heights and “Oh God, oh _God_ , Derek, Derek you have to mmh, you’ve, I’m going to come” he says and the moment he can feel it pulse out of him Derek moves his hand so that he comes into his hand, hot slightly-rough skin pressing against the tip of his dick.

He looks down when he feels Derek pressing his face into the crook of his hip again, just breathing hotly this time. His one hand is still on Stiles’ cock, semen dripping down to his wrist and to his elbow. The other hand, previously on his hip, is gone and Stiles is having trouble to really see what is going on because Derek’s face is in the way, but he can hear Derek unzipping his own jeans.

“Oh my God,” Stiles then says, because he can not shut up and certainly not now, “Are you getting yourself off? Is this because of me?”

Derek grunts into Stiles’ pubes and it sends a rush of excitement through Stiles’ body. If he had been able to get hard immediately after an orgasm, this would definitely have done it.

“Let me do it?” he then asks, because he feels like he should offer a hand job, at least. Derek groans again and he shakes his head—and Stiles can see his shoulders move and jerk a little closer to Stiles’ body. He leans his upper body a little to the side and then he can see it, see Derek’s hand move on his erection, pulling furiously.

“Uuuuh,” Stiles says, forgetting to close his mouth after.

Derek is sniffing, and sometimes a hot tongue darts out to taste the skin of Stiles’ thigh and Derek’s face tickles the coarse hairs but Stiles figures he’ll just let him. It doesn’t really take all that long anyway—after maybe half a minute, Derek suddenly moves up a little and Stiles can feel his cock brush against his leg right before Derek starts to come across it in long hot spurts. Stiles’ own dick twitches.

It’s only then that he feels a little unsure of what to do. Derek gets up and hoists his jeans up with his one hand, while the other is still wet with Stiles’ come. Stiles’ leg is wet too, and it’s already awkward but only gets more so when Derek tells him, “Pull up your jeans.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Stiles frowns at Derek, “I want to clean up first.” 

Derek sighs and when he starts to talk it sounds exasperated. “I don’t have anything to get clean _with_ over here. You do have a washing machine, right?” 

“Yeah, so what?” Stiles retorts, “What if my father is at home? What if he sees the stain? What if I run into Scott and he smells _you_ all over me! Because he will, won’t he?”

Derek shrugs and then he’s almost grinning again. “Would you mind that?” he asks Stiles.

And really, all Stiles can do in response to that is groan in true Derek-fashion because he doesn’t think he _would_ mind but he can hardly admit that, can he?

Derek, however, definitely looks far too pleased with himself after that. _Definitely_.

“I did give you that orgasm I owed you,” he says, and Stiles groans again.

“Is this you saying it’s all my own fault?” he wonders out loud, and Derek _nods_. 

And sure, Stiles complains after that. But in truth? His first time could’ve gone way worse.

~End


End file.
